


grief is not my only friend

by emilysreid (ironarana)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, if you thought you were gonna get a fluffy fic from me in any fandom you were sorely mistaken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironarana/pseuds/emilysreid
Summary: “And I-I thought by now I would’ve been better,” Reid continues, still not looking her in the eye. “I would’ve...healed.” His voice breaks off as he trembles on the last word.“But it still hurts,” Emily finishes lowly. Tentative, daring.Reid nods slowly. “Yeah. It still hurts.”-On the one year anniversary of Maeve's death, Emily is there to comfort a grieving Reid.
Relationships: Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	grief is not my only friend

Reid is off today. 

Now, Emily has grown well used to his endless, stilted rambling followed by the breathlessness that accompanies his long winded rants but today, Reid is quiet. His jaw is tense, his hazel eyes distant. And Emily’s sure if she were to walk around inside his mind, she wouldn’t find a homey living situation but rather, a barren cavern. Cold, dark. Isolating. Emily wants to draw him out of himself before he drowns himself in his own thoughts. 

“Reid,” she says and when he remains motionless, she tries again. _“Reid.”_

His gaze slides over to her and he blinks at her ever so innocently, like nothing is wrong when he clearly is. “What?” 

Emily raises a brow, her dark eyes swirling with worry, her face soft with it. “You okay?” she asks, tentative, knowing Reid doesn’t like to talk about his feelings. 

Reid shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Fine.” Concern draws his brows together, his head tilting and his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just checking is all,” Emily says and then attempts to return her attention to the folder on her desk, which she hasn’t made lots of headway on reading. 

However, Reid, never one to know when to leave well enough alone, insists, “Why were you checking?” 

It frustrates her but she also can’t fault him for wanting to know her reasons why. She likes to know why others do what they do just as much as he does. But, in this case, she doesn’t want to tell him she noticed he was distant otherwise he may just close himself off more and retreat further and further away from everyone around him. She has to be careful. Talking about emotions is a delicate subject with Reid and she has to be conscious of that. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Reid,” Emily reiterates. “That’s all.” 

Reid’s face screws together ever so slightly, hardening with stubbornness while his eyes are shining with disbelief. Almost like he never could’ve imagined someone could care that much about it, like someone would even notice. Emily swallows thickly, her heart throbbing against her sternum. A wave of emotion swells and crests before washing over her. How could Reid ever begin to think he’s not cared about? Or that others don’t notice when he’s not behaving normally? 

She doesn’t know. And she wants answers but she knows Reid won’t let down his defenses that easily. Not after all the years he’s added brick after brick to the walls he uses to to defend himself and make sure he’s safe. Not after all those years he only had himself to watch his back. Even after having this team for the last six years, he’s still not used to being cared about or fussed over. She knows it’s because of his childhood, because of his absent father and mentally deteriorating mother. She still isn’t sure she doesn’t want to hunt down Reid’s father and scream in his face. 

So, because she can’t do any of that, because being Reid’s friend means doing a balancing act, she leaves him alone for the rest of the work day and finally finishes reading the file. 

-

Reid leaves his book behind. 

It’s something small, something someone would normally overlook if a coworker left one of their belongings behind. If it were anyone else, then they would just leave the book on Reid’s desk for him to collect when he arrives bright and early in the morning. 

But it’s Emily, and when she sees the hardcover edition of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five sitting alone on his desk, her stomach churns with suspicion, hairs on her arms standing on end. It’s not like Reid to carelessly leave behind current reads and she knows it’s current because he was just talking about it the day before, which is even more troubling. Something is wrong and without thinking, she takes the book and shoves it in her bag, which slides down into the crook of her elbow as she hurries over to the elevator bay. 

_You’re overreacting,_ a cloying voice in the back of her head admonishes. _Calm down._

Emily forces herself to inhale and then exhale, her tight chest loosening. Her shoulders rise and fall before relaxing. Her mind hums with racing thoughts. Maybe she is overreacting. But she’d rather be safe than sorry. And she’d rather talk Reid off a ledge than watch him jump off one, if that’s the case. 

The fresh night air is laced with the invigorating scent of rain, the road shining with wetness as she weaves her way through DC traffic. Water dribbles down her windows. Streetlights shine and reflect blindingly in her rearview mirrors. She hits the intersection where a right turn will take her home but a left will take her to Reid’s. She changes lanes and turns left and doesn’t look back. 

She slows along the curb just outside his complex and sets the car in park before she turns it off, the hum of the engine dying as her headlights do. Emily foregoes an umbrella and lightly jogs through the drizzle, her shoes clicking against the stairs as she climbs them before yanking the black, wrought iron handle, the door swinging out. Emily warms herself in the entryway, chilled to her bones by the rain, by Reid’s behavior. She steals herself before she makes her way through the second set of doors, effectively crossing the event horizon. 

He lives on the third floor. Emily takes the stairs and then before she knows it, she’s standing outside his door and heaving for air. She may be a federal agent but she swears, stairs will be the death of her one day. She allows herself a minute to collect her bearings before she sets her shoulders and knocks on his door. 

“Reid? It’s Emily, are you home?” 

It’s redundant to ask: of course he’s home. There are few circumstances when he wouldn’t be. One, if he was taken against his own will. Two, if he was at a fantasmagoria or chess tournament. And as far as she knows, neither events are occurring any time in the near future. If they were, then she would’ve overheard something about them for Reid himself. So it’s safe to assume he’s most likely home. And ignoring her. 

She sighs. “You left your book at work, I just wanted to bring it over to you. I know you were really excited about this one and I didn’t want you to forget it.” 

Emily lingers outside his door, shifting her body weight from heel to heel. She is acutely aware of how her fingers are beginning to tingle and how her breathing mounts ever so slightly. She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, reminding herself: Breathe, just breathe. 

Just as she’s ready to turn away and bring the book home with her, she hears the telltale noise of lock clicking and then the door swings inward on screeching hinges to reveal a disheveled Reid, looming in the doorway. His long hair is mussed, his cheeks flushed and his undereye bags heavy. But what sends her heart falling into her stomach are his red rimmed, shining eyes. His nose twitches. His breaths are shaky and watery. 

Emily doesn’t know what to say. She works her jaw useless, her dark eyes wide with shock and eventually, she lands on a soft, disbelieving, “Oh, Reid” before she crosses the threshold of the doorway, not even waiting for him to invite her in. 

But he closes the door behind her and does the locks, which must mean it’s okay for her to be there. He wants her to stay. When he turns from the door to her, she lets the bag slide off her arm and onto the floor with a dull thud before she folds her arms around him, one hand resting on the small of his back, the other hand tangling into his hair. 

She cards her fingers soothingly through the ends of his hair as he buries his face into the crook of her shoulder and hides there, his breaths tickling her neck. His arms tighten around her like she’s his only lifeline. His body shakes with low, heart wrenching sobs, like he’s trying so hard to hold it together and failing horribly. His tears wet the fabric of her jacket. Her stomach twists. His heart is beating at a million miles a minute against her shoulder. 

“Hey,” she murmurs into his ear. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, alright? I swear.” 

Reid sniffles and nods into her shoulder before he withdraws from their embrace, looking worse for wear than he did just a few moments ago. He skillfully avoids her worried gaze, instead casting his gaze to a crack in the cold, hardwood floors. His hazel eyes are growing distant and she can’t have him retreating into that cavern inside his mind right now. This isn’t the time to self isolate. This is the time to reach out for something - or someone - steady to hold onto. 

“Reid,” Emily says but her voice is watery. She clears her throat and tries again, more grounded and soft around the edges. “Reid. I know you don't want to do this but you need to talk to me, okay? Whatever is going on, you can’t fight it alone and trying to work through it by yourself is only going to make it worse.” 

Reid’s nose twitches. A lone tear trails down the side of his face. Emily resists the urge to reach out and brush it away. He nods slowly in understanding and then jerks his head in the direction of his living room before shuffling in that direction. 

Emily follows him and they both sink down into the worn cushions of Reid’s second hand couch, bodies angled towards each other. Her elbows rest on her thighs, her hands folded together as she focuses her intent gaze on Reid. He bows his head, his thumb massaging the inside of his hand like he normally does when he is anxious or nervous. It’s a stark contrast to the motionless, hauntingly still Reid that sat in the desk across from her earlier this morning. This Reid is an entirely different being altogether. This is the hidden Reid that is only made known in time likes these: with the rain falling gently against his windows, in the low lighting of his apartment, and the only witness to his vulnerability is one who is still a stranger to it herself. 

“It’s been one year,” Reid manages to croak. Emily’s brows draw together as she blinks at him in dazed confusion before he clarifies, “Since Maeve left.” 

Oh, is all she thinks and she shakes her head. It doesn’t fly over her head that he said she left, like maybe she isn’t actually dead. Maybe one day he’ll wake and it will all have been just a terrible nightmare. A year later and he’s still in denial. Emily swallows down unbidden tears of her own and bites down on the inside of her cheek. 

“And I-I thought by now I would’ve been better,” Reid continues, still not looking her in the eye. “I would’ve...healed.” His voice breaks off as he trembles on the last word. 

“But it still hurts,” Emily finishes lowly. Tentative, daring. 

Reid nods slowly. “Yeah. It still hurts.” 

Emily sighs. There is no easy way to talk about this: grief. It’s heavy and it’s nauseating and it’s something he has to sit with, no matter how much he wishes he could leave him alone. There is no mathematical formula or statistic that will ease its affliction. It’s just a storm to be weathered and either he’ll drown or he’ll emerge stronger because of it. 

“Reid,” Emily begins. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could say that grieving gets easier and one day you’ll be able to think about it and it won’t hurt you anymore but I can’t. I really wish I could. But what I can tell you is that it does get easier. One day, you’ll be able to say her name and breathe when you say it. It won’t catch in your throat.” 

“I still see her,” Reid confesses. He sniffs. “In my dreams. I-I only saw her for ten minutes but it felt like an eternity. Still does. Everytime I close my eyes she’s there.” 

Emily lets his words sink in before she hesitantly asks, “Does she haunt you?” 

Reid shakes his head. “No. She-she doesn’t. But at night when I close my eyes I see her and Diane and…” 

He doesn’t even need to finish his sentence. She knows where he’s going, knows every night he hears Maeve call out his name and watches Diane Turner fire the gun and sees how the light fades from Maeve’s eyes. It was a murder suicide but Maeve and Diane weren’t the only victims that night when the gun went off. The other victim is still here, in front of her, the sole survivor of that night. And his hands are shaking uncontrollably. 

She reaches out and takes one of his hands into her own, interlacing their fingers together. His are cold, hers are warm. Their knuckles twist. A finger falls to the inside of his wrist and she can feel the blood coursing through his veins. 

“Reid, listen to me,” Emily says, her words weighed in a way they weren’t before. “Maeve’s death wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to her.” 

Reid swallows hard. “She left me,” he whispers, so quiet and wet she almost didn’t hear him. “Like my Dad did.” 

Emily shakes her head. “No. No, Maeve didn’t leave you. It’s only leaving if someone actually wants to and Maeve didn’t want to. Your dad did and you can’t blame yourself for your dad leaving any more than you can blame yourself for Maeve dying.” 

And then, Reid delivers a blow. “There’s something wrong with me” and once the words have left his mouth, he finally meets her eyes and all she sees is a maelstrom of agony. It tears right through her heart and stabs at her insides and it feels like she is dying all over again, her body aching and her bones heavy laden with weariness. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Reid,” Emily cries and damn it, there are unbidden tears falling down her face now. “You’re just different and there’s nothing wrong with that.” And then her mind comes to a realization faster than a runaway train and her heart thuds against her sternum with it and it rushes out of her mouth before she can even realize what she’s saying. “And you know what? I left but it wasn’t my choice. I wanted to stay with you and with the team but I couldn’t. And I came back. So what does that say about me?” 

The truth is she doesn’t know the answer. The truth is she didn’t mean to make it about herself. But God, she’s just so tired of Reid constantly discounting how much he matters to his loved ones and yeah, maybe she wanted to shake him a bit if it meant he would understand how much she cares. 

She lets a long, tired sigh and tries to redirect their conversation back to where it all began. “Reid what I’m trying to say is that the grief may always be there. But it doesn’t mean her blood is on your hands. And it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you because for everyone that leaves, there’s always gonna be someone who comes back and sits in the dark with you. Do you understand?” 

For a moment, Reid is motionless and then he nods slowly, life returning to his eyes. The air is sober around them. Reid’s lashes are wet. “I understand,” he says. 

“Good,” Emily says and then hastily brushes away her own tears. She laughs shakily. “See? Now you have me crying.” 

Grief is not something easily laughed off but it brings a half smile to Reid’s face so she figures that has to count for something. 

In the end, grief is not Reid’s only friend. 

And that’s all that matters. 

-

Kurt Vonnegut wrote, _“And Lot’s wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes.”_

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY after several long months i've written something i'm proud of. this took me about an hour but dang i am proud of it. this is Quality Writing and after struggling for a while to write something Quality i feel like i finally have so basically,,,just pls be gentle with my bby okay?? i'm like eight seasons into cm and i have many emotions about the two of them and also yes i know emily doesn't return for a while so let's just pretend this is set in a universe where she's back with the BAU and there to comfort reid on the one year anniversary of maeve's death, okay?? okay. 
> 
> let me know in the comments below if you liked it and be sure to leave a kudos!! lots of love for you guys, have a great weekend!!
> 
> tumblr: emilysreid


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